


Hands

by pyrrhical (anoyo)



Category: Havemercy - Fandom
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:49:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5932228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rook's done a lot of things that he's not proud of. He'd never admit that he's not proud of them; that would be too close to admitting failure, which is just another word for weakness. Rook is many things, but he's not weak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 12/7/09 [here](http://thremedon.livejournal.com/70195.html?thread=1121075#t1121075).

Rook's done a lot of things that he's not proud of. He'd never admit that he's not proud of them; that would be too close to admitting failure, which is just another word for weakness. Rook is many things, but he's not weak.

He doesn't have to be weak to have done things he's not proud of. Rook's mature enough to know that. In fact, it takes a kind of strength to admit mistakes, even just to oneself. Rook has that strength, and many others besides.

Rook knows that he's not weak, and he knows that he can admit to himself his mistakes, but Rook will never admit that taking Thom up in Havemercy that one night, those few hours, was a mistake. Reckless, yes, he knows it was, but it was not a mistake. That rash action created a bond between two men that was necessary in a time of war.

Rook knows that that bond is the only reason he was able to forgive the brother that had betrayed him. When one bond, dusty, unused, and painfully imagined never to be needed again had been shattered, Rook had been able to take what had grudgingly been built in the other and combine them. What remained was something new, something stronger, but also something unfamiliar.

New ground, based in the strength gained from one hot, reckless night. Rook could see the irony of their lives in that pattern of defining moments: all of them seemed to be summed up the same. By heat, and by recklessness, and by the cover of night.

Rook can feel that heat, now, much like he could then, with Thom's hands searing into his flesh. He knows that if he stops to think, to feel, he'll feel first love, then shame, and Rook fears what both might mean. He does not stop to think. He meets the press of Thom's body with the press of his own, loving how Thom's hands are big, and strong, and rough, and recognizable absolutely anywhere.

He wonders, for a moment, what Thom wonders now. If it's about heat, or recklessness, or night. Rook can't know, not without asking, and he doesn't want to ask. Instead, he focuses again on what he's doing, on the heat of body, and hands, and simply feels. It feels right, and Rook does not regret.


End file.
